The Dog Crusoe and his Master. Robert Michael Ballantyne

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      Little wonder, then, that Crusoe was beloved by great and small among the well-disposed of the canine tribes of the Mustang Valley.

      But Crusoe was not a mere machine. When not actively engaged in Dick Varley’s service, he busied himself with private little matters of his own. He undertook modest little excursions into the woods or along the margin of the lake, sometimes alone, but more frequently with a little friend whose whole heart and being seemed to be swallowed up in admiration of his big companion. Whether Crusoe botanised or geologised on these excursions we will not venture to say. Assuredly he seemed as though he did both, for he poked his nose into every bush and tuft of moss, and turned over the stones, and dug holes in the ground—and, in short, if he did not understand these sciences, he behaved very much as if he did. Certainly he knew as much about them as many of the human species do.

      In these walks he never took the slightest notice of Grumps (that was the little dog’s name), but Grumps made up for this by taking excessive notice of him. When Crusoe stopped, Grumps stopped and sat down to look at him. When Crusoe trotted on, Grumps trotted on too. When Crusoe examined a bush Grumps sat down to watch him, and when he dug a hole Grumps looked into it to see what was there. Grumps never helped him; his sole delight was in looking on. They didn’t converse much, these two dogs. To be in each other’s company seemed to be happiness enough—at least Grumps thought so.

      There was one point at which Grumps stopped short, however, and ceased to follow his friend; and that was when he rushed headlong into the lake and disported himself for an hour at a time in its cool waters. Crusoe was, both by nature and training, a splendid water-dog. Grumps, on the contrary, held water in abhorrence, so he sat on the shores of the lake disconsolate when his friend was bathing, and waited till he came out. The only time when Grumps was thoroughly nonplussed, was when Dick Varley’s whistle sounded faintly in the far distance. Then Crusoe would prick up his ears, and stretch out at full gallop, clearing ditch, and fence, and brake with his strong elastic bound, and leaving Grumps to patter after him as fast as his four-inch legs would carry him. Poor Grumps usually arrived at the village, to find both dog and master gone, and would betake himself to his own dwelling, there to lie down and sleep, and dream, perchance, of rambles and gambols with his gigantic friend.

      Chapter Five.

      A mission of peace—Unexpected joys—Dick and Crusoe set off for the land of the Red-skins, and meet with adventures by the way as a matter of course—Night in the wild woods

      One day the inhabitants of Mustang Valley were thrown into considerable excitement by the arrival of an officer of the United States army and a small escort of cavalry. They went direct to the block-house, which, since Major Hope’s departure, had become the residence of Joe Blunt—that worthy having, by general consent, been deemed the fittest man in the settlement to fill the major’s place.

      Soon it began to be noised abroad that the strangers had been sent by Government to endeavour to bring about, if possible, a more friendly state of feeling between the whites and the Indians, by means of presents, and promises, and fair speeches.

      The party remained all night in the block-house, and ere long it was reported that Joe Blunt had been requested, and had consented, to be the leader and chief of a party of three men who should visit the neighbouring tribes of Indians, to the west and north of the valley, as Government agents. Joe’s knowledge of two or three different Indian dialects, and his well-known sagacity, rendered him a most fitting messenger on such an errand. It was also whispered that Joe was to have the choosing of his comrades in this mission, and many were the opinions expressed and guesses made as to who would be chosen.

      That same evening Dick Varley was sitting in his mother’s kitchen cleaning his rifle; his mother was preparing supper and talking quietly about the obstinacy of a particular hen that had taken to laying her eggs in places where they could not be found; Fan was coiled up in a corner sound asleep, and Crusoe was sitting at one side of the fire looking on at things in general.

      “I wonder,” remarked Mrs Varley, as she spread the table with a pure white napkin; “I wonder what the sodgers are doin’ wi’ Joe Blunt.”

      As often happens when an individual is mentioned, the worthy referred to opened the door at that moment and stepped into the room.

      “Good-e’en t’ye, dame,” said the stout hunter, doffing his cap, and resting his rifle in a corner, while Dick rose and placed a chair for him.

      “The same to you, Master Blunt,” answered the widow; “you’ve jist comed in good time for a cut o’ venison.”

      “Thanks, mistress, I s’pose we’re beholden to the silver rifle for that.”

      “To the hand that aimed it, rather,” suggested the widow.

      “Nay, then, say raither to the dog that turned it,” said Dick Varley. “But for Crusoe that buck would ha’ bin couched in the woods this night.”

      “Oh! if it comes to that,” retorted Joe, “I’d lay it to the door o’ Fan, for if she’d niver bin born nother would Crusoe. But it’s good an’ tender meat, whativer ways ye got it. Howsiver, I’ve other things to talk about jist now. Them sodgers that are eatin’ buffalo tongues up at the block-house as if they’d niver ate meat before, and didn’t hope to eat agin for a twelve-month—”

      “Ay, what o’ them?” interrupted Mrs Varley; “I’ve bin wonderin’ what was their errand.”

      “Of coorse ye wos, Dame Varley; and I’ve comed here a’ purpis to tell ye. They want me to go to the Red-skins to make peace between them and us; and they’ve brought a lot o’ goods to make them presents withal,—beads, an’ knives, an’ lookin’-glasses, an vermilion paint, an’ sich-like, jist as much as’ll be a light load for one horse—for, ye see, nothin’ can be done wi’ the Red-skins without gifts.”

      “’Tis a blessed mission,” said the widow, “I wish it may succeed. D’ye think ye’ll go?”

      “Go? ay, that will I.”

      “I only wish they’d made the offer to me,” said Dick with a sigh.

      “An’ so they do make the offer, lad. They’ve gin me leave to choose the two men I’m to take with me, and I’ve comed straight to ask you. Ay or no, for we must up an’ away by break o’ day to-morrow.”

      Mrs Varley started. “So soon?” she said, with a look of anxiety.

      “Ay; the Pawnees are at the Yellow Creek jist at this time, but I’ve heer’d they’re ’bout to break up camp an’ away west; so we’ll need to use haste.”

      “May I go, mother?” asked Dick, with a look of anxiety.

      There was evidently a conflict in the widow’s breast, but it quickly ceased.

      “Yes, my boy,” she said in her own low, quiet voice, “an’ God go with ye. I knew the time must come soon, an’ I thank Him that your first visit to the Red-skins will be on an errand o’ peace. ‘Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.’”

      Dick grasped his mother’s hand and pressed it to his cheek in silence. At the same moment Crusoe, seeing that the deeper feelings of his master were touched, and deeming it his duty to sympathise, rose up and thrust his nose against him.

      “Ah! pup,” cried the young man hastily, “you must go too. Of course Crusoe goes, Joe Blunt?”

      “Hum! СКАЧАТЬ